The Velvet Collar

by C. P. Mandara

  "You can still travel the world - with our children in tow." I slid my hand under her sex and let her feel the warm heat of my hand, as our argument got firmly underway. I was all for distracting her if that meant I would get what I wanted.

  "We need some alone time together," she moaned.

  "We'll still get alone time because I'll hire a nanny." My stance remained firm.

  "It won't matter because neither of us will have any sleep. Babies keep you awake all night." Jen had obviously done some reading on the subject. No matter.

  "Only for the first few months, and if you're awake all night, and I'm awake all night, just think how much fun that will be." I slipped my index finger inside her pussy and watched her squirm. I was so hard right now I could have punched holes in steel.

  "That's not how it will work, dear husband, and you're not the one who has to give birth." Jen looked at me meaningfully. "Things might never be the same again after a baby has come through there." Her eyes were staring down at my hand, the one that was now pulsing back and forth.

  "That's what surgeons are for. They'll make sure it's all in good order when you're finished, sweetheart. I'll give them an excellent bonus to guarantee the fact, don't you worry." I nodded encouragingly.

  "Ugh. You cannot be serious!" She then clicked her fingers as she came up with yet another argument. "There will be competition for my boobs. Have you thought about that?" Jen really was going to pull out all the stops in this conversation. I sighed.

  "We can share. I'll have one, and they can have one. That way everyone stays happy." I began rubbing her clit and smiled wickedly when she whimpered.

  "What happens if I have twins?" She only just managed to get her sentence out without stuttering, so I was definitely on the right track.

  "They'll just have to take turns, darling." We have a thing about queuing for stuff in England, so I didn't see why it should be a problem. Best to get used to the general order of things sooner rather than later.

  "They'll cry, they'll be sick, and they'll poop all over the place."

  "I don't see how that's an argument. That's your domain. I'll do bedtime stories and walks in the park."

  "Oh no you won't. It's an equal opportunities thing if we're having babies. You get to change diapers, too."

  "Done. Now can we stop arguing and get to the fun part?" Jen was whimpering now, and if I wasn't much mistaken she was already close to climaxing. How good was I?

  "There is no way..."

  I immediately stopped what I was doing, knowing she was close and waved the packet of birth pills in my right hand as I walked from the room.

  "You get back here right this instant!" she screamed.

  "Now going to flush these monsters down the toilet. I'll be back in two minutes."

  "You dare!" she screeched. It was official, my wife was freaking out.

  "I dare." There were all sorts of screaming and hysterics as I left the room, but I didn't let it concern me. She'd calm down eventually. An orgasm or ten might help mellow her out a bit. That's why I'd made sure she was tied up before I began the discussion. She'd see things my way before long. I was sure of it.

  It took mere seconds to flush all the pills down the toilet, but I gave Jen five minutes to calm down, just to be safe. Thankfully she wouldn't be able to throw anything at me unless she got out of those cuffs, and I'd made damn sure she wouldn't when I fastened them.

  When I re-entered the room. I held up the empty packet in victory and said, "You're coming with me to Escape. You freaked."

  Her look was mutinous. "You cheated, and when you get me down from here I am going to sever both of your testicles in..." I thought it best to interrupt.

  "Then I am never going to let you down. I'll leave you tied up forever and make love to you ten times a day, every day until you relent." I kept a straight face and wondered what she'd say to that. A few seconds went by while she continued to glare at me, and then I added, "Twenty times a day then. Starting from today. I am giving you twenty orgasms before I will allow you any sleep tonight. Does that sound like fun or not?" There was the slightest twitch to her mouth, and I knew I had her.

  "Mr Matthews, if you think you're getting off the hook that easily you're much mistaken."

  "I can tell you you're not getting off yours until I unbolt at least four padlocks," I said with a sly look. She shook her head and rolled her eyes, but she was grinning.

  "You are not out of the woods yet. What am I going to do if I can't have sex with you for the next three days? Do we have condoms? Please tell me we have condoms."

  "You're going to think about having babies - so many babies that we don't have enough rooms for them all." I was really pushing my luck here, but in for a penny and all that.

  "You have at least ten bedrooms in this house!" she squawked, while her eyes tried to disengage themselves from their sockets.

  "So?"

  "You can't rush me on this, Mark. When I'm ready I'll let you know."

  "In that case I'll let you know when I have some condoms handy."

  She screamed, and then I got the whip out, and she screamed a lot more.

  By the time I'd finished with her that evening she'd said an awful lot of naughty words, but the majority of them were while she was busy climaxing under my fingers. I was pretty confident she'd forgiven me, but I was going to uncuff her one hand at a time, just to make sure.

  Chapter Three - Jennifer

  When I woke up on Saturday morning Mark was still snoring softly beside me. Slowly stretching my limbs out under the covers, careful not to wake him, I smiled to myself. Today I had a challenge. Obey my husband to the letter for the next seven days, and I'd get a chance to be on top for a change. I wasn't going to remind him about that until this afternoon, though. This morning I was going to have a little fun with him.

  Now don't think for a minute that I don't adore being underneath my very talented husband. I am a submissive at heart, and ninety-nine percent of the time I'm very happy for him to wear the trousers. The trouble is, every now and again I have an itch that needs to be scratched. After being helpless underneath my father for so long, I wouldn't mind being in control every now and again. Not to the extent of those vicious ladies who whipped him silly, though. The thought of tearing someone's back to ribbons horrifies me, and if I ever lay eyes on that woman, Sophia, I'm going to give her a piece of my mind. Mark might have asked for it, but she should have known better. My husband was crippled with guilt. If he was already on his knees I see no reason why she had to grind him into the dust.

  Frowning at the thought I slipped out of bed quietly. At least she hadn't killed him. I had my own mother to thank for that near miss. It had taken a good six months for me to forgive her for that, and even now we were still on shaky ground. We'd danced around each other carefully the few times we'd met up, and she gave Mark unpleasant glares whenever she thought he was ordering me around. This made him very nervous, so it was almost worth patching things up with her. But there was no chance of that just yet. I didn't understand her world, and I didn't want to. Until I had a reason to do so I would remain polite but distant. Hopefully we would have no more near-death experiences that way.

  Approaching the Velvet Room, which had now become my walk-in-wardrobe, I wondered what I should wear to please my husband this morning. Mark had showered me with more clothes than Kim Kardashian, although most of them couldn't be worn in public. Seriously, I had more lingerie than the local Victoria Secrets store, and I'm not joking. Every time Mark went away he would always come back bearing gifts, and unfortunately the man went away lots. Often it was only for a day or two, so I can't really complain, but in the first year of your relationship all you really want to do is to spend time with each other. This week had been particularly hard, but thankfully he was working from home for the next few days, and I had him all to myself - hurrah!

  Searching through my closet I flicked through coat hangers filled with Versace, Guerlain, Dolce and Gabbana, Ale
xander McQueen, Anna Sui and more. This morning nothing took my fancy. Hmm. How about just stockings and a basque? I was pretty sure it would grab his attention. Picking up a black La Perla basque that revealed more than it covered with all its mesh cut-outs, I then trailed lace-topped stockings up my legs before encasing my feet in four-inch stilettos. I'd had a year to get used to walking in these ridiculous shoes, and I was now getting rather good at it. All it took was a bit of practice. Attaching the matching suspender belt carefully, I surveyed myself in the mirror and nodded. Two could play at the birth control game. If he wanted to leave me unable to have sex all weekend long I didn't see why he shouldn't suffer at the same time.

  Then I sat at my desk and carefully applied some makeup; nothing too bright, just a little peach colour for my cheeks and a pink tint for my lips. I was going for the barely-there look. After that all I had to do was pin my hair on top of my head, and I was ready to cook. If I could cook - which I can't.

  Anyway, I went downstairs to the ginormous kitchen at Fountaine Bleu and wondered what sort of fare I could serve up for breakfast that wouldn't involve me setting off any smoke alarms. This was a dilemma, but it wasn't an insurmountable problem. I could do this. I could be a Stepford Wife and shock the hell out of my husband at the same time. Opening the fridge door I stared at the contents inside it for a good minute or two, before admitting defeat. What the hell did I do with any of these ingredients? Closing the door and leaning my back against it I took a deep breath and tried to figure out another way to solve the problem. A bowl of cereal, perhaps? I could pour milk into a bowl, and I'm sure there were some cornflakes around here somewhere. Looking around the kitchen, which featured at least fifty cupboards, I nearly panicked, but then gave myself a stern talking to. When all else failed it was time to turn to Google.

  Half an hour later I had made my very first omelette. Although I had no clue how to work an oven there was a whole section on microwave meals, and I knew how to operate one of those. Whenever my coffee goes cold I usually give it a thirty-second burst in there, so we were old friends. Turns out you can crack a few eggs into a bowl, add some cheese, mushrooms and bacon, whip it all together and pop it in the microwave for two minutes. Voila. You have yourself an omelette. Pop a little salt and pepper over that beauty, and you're good to go.

  I'd just managed to grab a knife and fork and pop it on a plate when Mark's head appeared around the door. He'd just wrapped a robe around himself, and he looked edible. This was what I wanted for breakfast. Food was wholly overrated.

  "Morning, darling." He rubbed his eyes sleepily, and then when he'd fully taken stock of the situation, said, "Holy fuck." The man then advanced towards me as if I was breakfast, and I wasn't having any of that. No way. If he wanted to fight dirty I was slinging the first round of mud.

  "No, no, no, darling. Sit." I indicated the chair before him and pointed down towards my creation. Hopefully it was edible. I hadn't tested the theory.

  He looked back at me, crestfallen, and then spotted the plate in front of him. "Holy fuck." He sat down heavily on the leather chair and blinked some more, but this time at the plate.

  "You just said that." I nudged the knife and fork towards him, as if in encouragement.

  "I know, and I'm not quite sure what has impressed me more." I gave him a dry look and then turned around and wiggled my naked ass in his direction.

  "Why don't you think about it for a bit?" I suggested sweetly.

  "I already have. I think we should just go straight back upstairs to bed." Mark's hand reached out to touch my ass, but I slapped it away.

  "Eat your omelette. It's my first, and I made it especially for you."

  "It actually looks edible." Mark looked at me with worried eyes but reached for his knife and fork. He gingerly lifted the underside of my creation and after inspecting it back and forth, turned towards me. "It isn't burnt." The complete shock and awe in his expression should have been insulting, but I knew first hand how bad my cooking skills were.

  "No. It isn't. Eat up," I encouraged him.

  "You aren't trying to poison me, are you?" My affronted look told him all he needed to know on that score. No one was poisoning anyone around these parts ever again. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry." He cut off a tiny sliver and popped it in his mouth. He then smiled. "This is actually not bad."

  Charming. The man knew how to impress a woman. I tapped my foot against the floor as if reminding him I was still in the room.

  "Sorry, darling. Thank you for going to all this trouble. I'm really impressed. It's a very lovely, albeit somewhat crunchy omelette." When I gave him a dark look he backtracked. "Very edible, though. Yum, yum, yum." To emphasise his point he began digging into his meal with gusto.

  "Excellent. I knew you'd see it my way," I said, before proceeding to drop to my knees and shuffle towards him. There was plenty of room for me to dive under the dining room table, and as he was still in his robe I made short work of unfastening the tie.

  "May I have my breakfast, Sir?" I purred, as his cock rose eagerly to greet me.

  Mark coughed. "It isn't my birthday, is it? I'm pretty sure it isn't, but I just need to check."

  I ran my tongue up the length of his cock, greedily, and a utensil clattered heavily against his plate.

  "No, darling. It's not your birthday."

  "In that case, have I been secretly transported to a parallel dimension or kidnapped by aliens?"

  "Very funny. Do you want to chat or have me suck your cock?" Honestly, there was no pleasing some people.

  "I suddenly don't have anything to talk about," he said, and then went very quiet.

  Rolling my eyes from my hiding place under the table, I put the tip of his cock in my mouth and swirled my tongue around it. He tasted divine.

  "I know you're rolling your eyes under there, which is another fifty spanks, Jennifer." My mouth opened in wry amusement as he shifted his legs wider apart to let me get closer to him.

  "Do you want me to stop?" I said impishly, pulling away from him.

  "Fuck no. I take that back. In fact, I'll remove five hundred spanks from your tally if you do a tolerable job."

  Tolerable? Hmph. "Don't push your luck, darling. I accept the offer though." My mouth went back to what it was doing. Five hundred spanks off my tally of over twenty thousand wasn't really going to reduce it by anything meaningful, but I'd take what I could get.

  Spending the next twenty minutes tormenting my husband was extremely enjoyable. At the start the poor man tried to continue eating his breakfast, but I was having none of that. After a minute or two of deep throating he promptly choked on his last mouthful, and I heard him lay down his cutlery in defeat. If I had been able to I would have crowed in delight. While life at Albrecht might have been monstrous, there were certain skills I'd learnt there that were invaluable. Wrapping my husband around my little finger with a few carefully placed strokes of my mouth was one of them. When he began making little noises of pleasure I knew I was nearly there. Now, it was my turn to be evil.

  Stopping just before he reached the point of no return I let him go with a loud, sucking pop, and crawled out from under the other side of the table. Using a finger to tidy up the stray lines of saliva from around my mouth, I gave him a wink.

  "Darling, I'd love to finish what I've started, but as you've tipped all of my birth control pills down the toilet I think we'd better play it safe for the next two days. A baby isn't just for Christmas darling. It's for life, and you need to do some research on the subject. When I'm happy that you're adequately aware of what you're going to take on, then we'll talk again. Until then, I've highlighted some prenatal classes you might want to attend and popped you an email with some reading resources. Enjoy the rest of your breakfast, darling."

  Mark was already standing up as I flew from the room. There was a wickedly evil glint in his eye, which told me that if he caught me I was going to pay heavily for my sins. I figured I had a fifty/fifty chance of outrunning him and making it to
a lockable bathroom, but now he was back to full fitness it would be a lot harder than it had been previously. Someone needed to stab him again - and no, I was not serious. I didn't want to go through anything like that ever again. It was a very dark time in our lives, and I'm quite frankly amazed that we both managed to come out the other side mostly unscathed.

  Running up the stairs two at a time, as if my feet had rocket boosters attached to them, I managed to get to the top before Mark. He was only three-quarters of the way up, and I stood a fighting chance of making it to the bathroom. It was near the end of the corridor, so concentrating on pelting my way along the bleached wood floorboards I set my sights on the door handle. I had no idea what I would do when I'd locked myself inside there, and I'd have to come out eventually, but I'd think about that later. For now, I just wanted a little taste of victory.

  Just as the handle came into view and I thought I'd nailed it there was an almighty roar behind me, and my world tilted sideways for a moment before I landed on top of my husband with a rather hard thud. It took my breath away for a minute, but when I'd recovered I did my best to pull away and continue my journey, only to discover that the man had hold of my wrist in a deadlock. Before he got a chance to say anything I said, "You started this." Rolling over to face him I scowled. "If you hadn't thrown my pills down the drain we could be happily bouncing up and down on each other right now."

  Mark sighed. "I thought you were supposed to be behaving yourself in order to win your bet?"

  "That hasn't started yet. I'm allowed a little revenge time after last night." I pouted.

  "Says who?" He raised his infamous eyebrow, but a year under Mark's roof had taught me how to argue if nothing else.

  "Says me. My bet doesn't start until this evening, else I'm not going to Escape with you. If you can cheat, I can cheat."

  "Hmmm. So you want to play dirty, Mrs Matthews?"

  There was a familiar twinkle in my husband's eye, and I knew I was going to regret this, but I said it anyway.